EVENTS AUGUST 28, 1942. ENTRY DITTO. FROM RACHEL APT….And naturally Rachel’s only hope is that the thing can be pulled off before it is too late. It is hard to hide a small boy: how can you keep a small boy from wiggling and jumping and making a noise? Rachel describes Fein’s visit thus:
At the door, on seeing her, Fein uttered a quaint benediction—in praise of God for letting him find the girl he was looking for. The formal part of the benediction sounded odd, Rachel says, on this rough man’s thick lips, as if he were trying to say something in a foreign language and could barely get around the words.
It was evening, not long after the end of the working day, and Reb Yechiel and Froi Mazur had stopped by at the bakery for a visit; they were talking with Rachel and David. Menkes was out delivering bread. Others of the family had yet to arrive for the evening chat. Rachel introduced Fein to the Mazurs.
Fein, abruptly: —— I have completed the business you brought me.
Rachel’s face took on a look, she supposes, of surprise and delight. She said:
—— Run in the other room, Dovidl. I want to talk with the man.
David, with finality, as if he did not intend even to discuss Rachel’s command: —— No.
Rachel: —— David! (And she waited.)
David, in the tone of an adult who has been asked if he would not prefer another chair: —— Thank you, I’m comfortable here.
Froi Mazur, rising, stretching out an inviting hand: —— Come with me, David.
David, whining: —— Every time anything interesting happens, you send me into the other room, like a baby.
But Rachel had turned to Fein, with a look of expectancy and hope, and David went out sulkily with Froi Mazur. Reb Yechiel Mazur sat where he was.
Rachel: —— Tell me.
Fein: —— You know, Berson is a man with a big mind. (As Fein said this, he bunched all the fingers of his left hand together in a point and tapped them against his own temple.) I guess you know we work at neighboring benches in Reisinger’s carpentry shop. It is easier there for me than for him—I look like a carpenter and he looks (and Fein repeated the gesture at his temple) like a headworker. And yet he helps me, you know. He talks to me. I remember once he took me to the nightclub where he worked and gave me a big meal: how he laughed that night! What I mean is, there has never been any reason for him to be civil to me—and yet he treats me as if I had a brain. You see? What should I do—treat him like a carpenter?
Rachel laughed.
Fein: —— All the time Berson used to talk about some girl who wasn’t his wife, and I used to say to myself, Hmmm, something fancy going on in the Berson house. And then—who is this girl? You see? It’s you, Frailin Apt. [NOTE. N.L. Should I be surprised that Rachel told me this with an immodest giggle?] So when you come to me about the little brother, you are already my friend’s favorite subject of conversation. I have to do the job. You see?
Rachel, impatiently: —— So?
Fein: —— So we will take care of your boy on the Aryan side.
Reb Yechiel Mazur, finally catching the drift of Fein’s errand: —— Rachel! Good girl!
Fein: —— Not only that. I give you your choice of merchandise. Two kinds of goods. First kind: we can place your young fellow with some Catholic nuns in a convent outside Warsaw, very gentle, sweet women—they are, saints, I can tell you that, I have talked with them personally, and they are real saints; already they are sheltering a number of Jewish children; wonderful women!—and if you don’t mind having your young man dress like a magpie for some years in a woman’s clothes—as a novice, you see?—and if you don’t mind having him surrounded entirely by women and learning the Catholic claptrap (in fact, they would probably want to keep his soul permanently; I hear they are rather possessive, these women)—if you don’t mind any of that, this would be a very good solution. In my estimation, absolutely foolproof. (I don’t know what they do when his voice changes, but you don’t have to worry about that for a while. That’s their problem, in more ways than one.) That’s the first plan—no danger. The second piece of goods—nothing but danger. Here the idea is to include your young man in a group of children being taken by an underground route—and a very roundabout one, I’m afraid—to Palestine. From Warsaw to Palestine—on foot. Many inspections. Great hardships. A very difficult trip. You see? The Jews (said Fein, speaking as if he were not one) are peculiar: they call this ordeal tiul, a walk. Just out for a walk. The groups go from Warsaw south to Czechoslovakia, and across Slovakia to Hungary, and beyond that, I don’t like to stretch my imagination. Istanbul, I understand. I am told there are very reliable men and women handling this. In Prague there is a woman, they say she is magnificent, does everything right in the middle of the Germans’ eyeballs….Nu?
Rachel says she was trembling, and was on the verge of tears. She said:
—— I’ll have to ask him which he chooses, but I am sure he will want—the walk. When could he leave?
—— It will take some time—perhaps even weeks—to arrange everything.
—— Let me get the boy.
As Rachel left the room, she was dimly aware of Reb Yechiel Mazur’s standing up and saying in a low voice to Fein:
—— I understand you people can get things done. There is something I would like to ask you….
When Rachel returned, she heard Fein say, perfectly openly and in a normal conversational tone:
—— Oh yes, without hesitation, I would recommend prussic acid. Its effect is very rapid: just a little giddiness, headache, palpitations, and that is all. Strychnine is very violent: hideous convulsions. No, prussic acid is much the best.
Reb Yechiel Mazur: —— Very well, then.
Fein: —— Prussic acid has the odor of peachblossoms.
—— All right.
—— For how many?
—— For two.
—— Good. I will deliver it next week.
—— We live with Reb Jakov Murin of Judenrat Auditing.
—— Ach, we know where he lives.
Rachel cleared her throat and said to David:
—— Thank this man for being very kind to us.
David, whining: —— I can’t listen to him, but I have to thank him. What kind of a shlimazl are you trying to make of me?
Rachel: —— But Dovidl! Listen! Let me tell you what he said….